These Are Powers are trying to find their way while building their form as formless as possible.

On a song-by-song basis, this is a consistently solid album.

Despite Live Forever not being perfect, Bartees Strange swings for the fences on every song here. It’s exciting just to watch it unfold in front of your eyes.

To really get the most from Margerine Eclipse, consume it in its entirety in one sitting: songs that appear to be fairly average when dipped into randomly take on new elements when they take their place in the overall sequence.

Modern Art doesn't have the pure pop exuberance of Girlfriend, but it proves to be a welcome addition to a distinguished body of work.

Despite rarely achieving all of what it goes for, it's hard to deny the sheer pleasure of getting the enormous hooks and noise that are constantly on display here.

Fullbrook mottles sonic accouterments throughout with graceful finesse, though sometimes at the expense of songs that dissolve into a foggy blur.

The ambition they pursue overall shows in what Young himself affirms to be the band's best work, and their belief in that shows through and through.

There's a lot of beautiful music to hear and Patton treats it all with an admirer's respect, but there is something about Mondo Cane that reeks of vanity.

While much has been made of Jubilee being an album about joy—and in some ways, it is—the majority of the third Japanese Breakfast album captures a full breadth of emotions. ... It’s on the back half of this album where things don’t click as strongly.

While a fairly brisk listen, the album does start to drag in its second half. Not that the later songs are particularly weak, but the only thing that really marks them out from those in the first is that they're a bit quieter.

Even with its perceived flaws, it offers some real moments of beauty to get swept away in if you're looking for an escape from the world around you.

It may all seem a bit lackluster for a band that is known for being impulsive, but toning things down was actually an effective move to make.

Overall the band carries off a convincing sense of menace and rocks hard at the same time. It may not be what fans of the original Faust would expect but it's satisfying in a different way, while still maintaining the arch sensibility that made them legendary if not exactly famous.

These ten songs are immaculately composed, proving that besides holding a pop motif that isn’t really revelatory, there’s enough variation to satisfy a few repeated listens.

While he denies us simple solutions, he uses this album to open sounds and atmospheres stranger and more daring than he’s used before. Rather than looking for answers, maybe the questions are what truly matter.

They embrace what they do best: creating music that balances this personal and political darkness with joy. In their strongest outing since All That You Can’t Leave Behind, the four-piece writes both sweeping anthems as well as some of the most effortless songs of their career.

Hear the Lion’s Roar is filled with positivity and joy, and though sometimes the silliness buries some genuinely tuneful compositions, it’s yet another worthy escape that preserves Fair’s endearingly idyllic fancy.

As a whole, Elements Of Light might feature a fair amount of padding, and it might not be quite as original sounding as the idea would suggest (other than the aforementioned Bjork comparison, there are more than a few moments that recall Aphex Twin at his more contemplative), but even so it does offer more than enough to satisfy as a listening experience, rather than just a curiosity.

Alvvays takes a decidedly more shambolic direction as it reaches its final half, which is worrisome considering its brief runtime, thereby overstaying its welcome by lacking some much needed punch. But it shouldn’t in any way discourage Rankin’s efforts as the band’s core member, whose astute, lovesick descriptions are more than just a pleasant diversion.

It’s not quite inspiration, or an emotional center. You leave this record thinking about how complex and refined it is, or maybe about how much Jack Tatum has grown as a songwriter. But at the end of the day, the album doesn’t embed itself into your daily life in the way Nocturne or Gemini did.

The weaknesses are outweighed by the strengths considerably, and so shouldn’t detract from another impressive collection; how a band can keep producing music of relative significance in such a conveyor belt fashion is truly mystifying.

Shapeshifting isn't just something from which to go forward; it's an absolute success in everything it tries. I only wish Young Galaxy had pushed a bit more, because there's no doubt that this could have been so much more.

Sounding grandiose and understated simultaneously is not an easy feat, but it's one that Cat's Eyes manages to do almost relentlessly.

It is a solid and dependable album, sure of its own purpose yet ready to complement those poignant moments when all that seems to be missing is a cue for the dramatic music to start.

Ultimately, Justice is another example of rearranging and reshuffling the devices of the past, but with complete understanding of their effectiveness to a point that sounds fresh.

Home Video is a more noticeably more mellow affair. Musically, it can be a little thin. Her strength as a lyricist is unwavering, even on her sparest, most nondescript ballads (Thumbs). But, as perkier indie-rock tunes like First Time and Brando prove, her careful arpeggios can also shine when she lets a little looser.

An indie-release album that shines under lower stakes without sacrificing Monch's complexities or intelligence.